


Big Damn Feathery White Wings

by DangersUntoldHardshipsUnnumbered



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/F, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 07:37:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14666394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangersUntoldHardshipsUnnumbered/pseuds/DangersUntoldHardshipsUnnumbered
Summary: A little ficlet from Maze's POV.





	Big Damn Feathery White Wings

I woke up this morning with wings.  No bullshit. Big damn feathery white wings.

I’m going to fucking kill Amenadiel.

That asshole.  He says he can’t figure out how to fix them and I’m pretty sure he’s lying because he’s laughing so hard on the other end of the phone I know he’s got tears coming down his face.  I can hear it. But he says he can’t figure it out. I told him he has 24 hours or I’m going to disembowel him and feed his entrails to the pigs.

Demons are NOT supposed to have wings.  Lucifer is Lucifer, he was an angel once.  He’s supposed to have them, even if I did cut them off for him once.  But I never have. I never wanted them. And these goddamn feathers are going to make me sneeze.

 

**

 

Linda comes over for brunch.  I’ve already had six bloody marys but I don’t tell her how many when she asks.  She can’t drink like I can, and I don’t want her to feel bad if she can’t keep up.  Linda makes me feel like I belong somewhere, so I want to make her feel like she belongs, too.  

I’m pissed off and unhappy about these wings, but she likes them.  She says they’re beautiful and keeps touching the big feathers at the bottom.  I tell her what happened and how mad I am, but she just touches my arm really softly and says that now I just look like the way she always saw me anyway.  I’m not supposed to get shaken by things like that, but I am. 

Linda makes me feel like I belong somewhere, even though right now, I’m a very drunk demon with angel wings.

She cooks omelets for us and I don’t really want them, but I eat it anyway because she made it and it makes her happy to feed me. I keep mixing her drinks. After one, she’s very chatty. After two, she’s telling me about how she used to be a phone sex operator.  I knew that, but I like hearing about it anyway. After a third, she’s so distracted she burns the bacon. It smells like home, I say. I think that’s funny but she doesn’t, for some reason. She cleans the burned pot and opens the windows to let the smoke out.

I believe it when she says she used to be a phone sex operator.  Sometimes I can hear it in her voice, when it gets really soft. I wonder what it would be like to have her talk like that to me.  I know she used to sleep with Lucifer but I don’t want to hear about it. He has his ways with girls and I have mine. I’ve been around enough to know that if it ever was going to happen with me and Linda, it has to come from her.  And I don’t want to know anyone else’s tricks. I want to find my own. Where’s the fun, otherwise?

After three bloody marys, she’s running her hands all over my wings.  “Can you feel that?” she asks.

“Yeah, Linda, they’re part of me.  For the moment, anyway. Till Amenadiel figures out how to get rid of them.”

“What’s the rush?” she wants to know.  She’s playing with the little downy feathers near my shoulders.  It feels really good actually. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.  “I think they’re gorgeous.”

I’ve done things to protect Linda that she probably wouldn’t like.  And she knows that. I never give specifics so she can keep her deniability.  But she knows I look out for her. Maybe that’s what she meant when she said I look like what she always thought of me anyway.  I’m not great at these human feelings, but I think I make her feel safe. Which is kind of ironic, being that I’m a demon forged in the bowels of Hell to torture the wicked.  But if I choose you, I choose you, and I chose Linda a long time ago. She’s not the wicked. She’s the person who sat down with me hour after hour and helped me dump out the contents of my heart and look at them.

“Can I ask you something?” she says, and her voice is real soft.  

I want her to say something sexy all of a sudden, but I just say, “Yeah?”

“Can you…”  She blushes a little.  “...can you wrap me up in them?”

I stare at her like she’s crazy for a minute.  “Why?”

“Because they’re angel wings!” she hollers.  “How often do you think I get a chance to be wrapped up in angel wings?”

I shrug, and the wings shrug with me.  “Okay.”

And I pull her close to me in the middle of the kitchen, and wrap my arms around her waist, and pull her tight against me.  She’s soft, and smells like something green and herbal. She rests her head against my chest and I hold her for a second, just like that.  Then I stretch the wings a little, curl them inward, and wrap them across my body, around her, pressing her to me. It’s a little surprising how much strength is in them, though it probably shouldn’t be.

She takes a deep breath and relaxes into me, and sighs like all her cares have just floated away.  I’ve slept with a lot of pretty young boys and girls and they were all tight and hard and perfect. I feel all of Linda’s little flaws, all the places that are soft that she feels like she has to hide, and they all feel good to me.  I breathe deep too, and we stand like that, for I don’t know how long.

“This is really nice,” she mumbles after a little while.

I agree.  I let go of her after a few more minutes, but she doesn’t look the same after that.  She looks at me with this softness that… well, I’ve seen it before, but not like this.  People don’t look at me like that. They look at me like they want to fuck me, or like they want to kill me, but not like that.  Not so softly.

Amenadiel calls.  He says he figured out how to fix me.  I’m not as thrilled as I’m supposed to be.

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Linda says after I hang up.

I shrug, and the feathers rustle a little.  “Yeah, except… they made you feel good.”

She smiles and says I’m obtuse.  I don’t know if this is an insult, but she’s looking at me softly, so softly, I don’t get mad.  “It wasn’t the wings, Maze.”

“No?”

“No.  It was you.”

We drink a little more.  I hold her again, wrap her in my wings like before.  And I feel like I belong somewhere. I feel like I belong here, holding her, in the light of the late afternoon, with her listening to my heartbeat and her slow, happy breathing on the skin of my chest.  I feel like I belong. 


End file.
